The House That Love Built
by RaeAnne
Summary: What can a house reveal? Can a house remember? HCam: a love story...man I am really terrible at this whole summary thing...NEW CHAPTER 2.18.07! FINISHED
1. Chapter 1

**TITLE: **The House That Love Built  
**AUTHOR:** RaeAnne  
**RATING: **PG-13—R  
**SPOILERS:** Everything through the beginning of season 3

**DISCLAIMER:** Same as always, characters not mine, they belong to FOX, please don't sue…all that you would get of value would be some Hugh Laurie memorabilia and why would you want that when you have the man yourself anyway….

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Here we go I'm back! Here is story three in the **Costello/Jones Collection**. This time I have for you an even more OC story then my previous **Turn Me On **but I hope you enjoy!  
This story's format might be a little hard to follow at first, though I have endeavored to make it as easy as possible. The premise of this story revolves around the House/Cameron relationship as it is told through memories awoken while going through their house. The memories are denoted in the beginning and ending by a few words of **_bold and italic text_** that being said the only other thing to consider is the time line. It is kind of jumpy and the memories are not told all in chronological order nor does the relationship follow much of any of the show's frame but I think it should be easy to follow after getting used to it. I hope you enjoy and leave lots of feedback! Lots of Love—RaeAnne

**Music Inspiration:** (Two this time)  
_First to Leave by Elvis Costello  
Not Too Late by Norah Jones_

**The House That Love Built**

"Well that's it, the Parkers will be moving in on the 30th."

"Thank you Janey—I'm glad to have this done with…"

"I'm sorry Mrs House; it's a beautiful home it must be sad to see it go."

"Actually—no it's losing the life we had here that is the worst. The house…it lost its beauty a while ago." Allison put on her sunglasses as she left the door of 1342 Rose Cottage Lane.

The sun was high but the temperature low. Crisp and frigid, it was Jersey in the fall. The house was beautiful, a two story updated Victorian with a large front and back yard, tall oaks that were showing their beautiful red and gold foliage and beautiful shrubs carefully trimmed. It was the perfect home in the middle of perfect suburbia, Allison thought as she stepped off the porch following the walk to the driveway. They had bought the house five years before…when it had needed TLC and they had had love to spare…they had been married four months.

"Okay, well I'll just need your keys," Janey bustled going to her car with the ostentatious Remax magnetic sign on the door putting the stacks of already signed papers on the backseat.

Allison hesitated as she pulled the keys out of her wool jacket. It was just a second, barely noticeably and easily shrugged off—she dropped the keys into the agents' hand withdrawing it immediately stuffing both into her pockets.

"Do you by chance know how I can get a hold of Dr. House? He still needs to sign off and I of course still need his keys…"

"He was supposed to be here today…" Allison was drowned out by the rumbling of a motorcycle. She watched him park and climb gracefully off. "Nice of you to show up," she called sourly.

"Nice to see you too darlin'," Greg pinned his wife with a stern look and tart retort.

Janey Smith had been a realtor for two years and was blinded by the commission she was making off this house to get the slightest hint that there was possible trouble brewing between the sellers. It she had been slightly more seasoned she would have tried to defuse the situation—at least till the closing had had been finalized.

"I was told there were papers I needed to sign?" Greg turned to Janey dismissing Allison.

"Yes, Dr. House…right here…" Janey fumbled—again if she had been slightly more mature she would have been able to hide the blush and the obvious crush on the doctor—especially while his wife was there.

Greg waited hands folded in front of him a phony smile of politeness on his face as he rocked back on his heels.

"I see you're riding again," Allison remarked with distaste she didn't bother to hide.

"Very astute, what tipped you off? I have no one to nag at me and tell me it's dangerous," he made a whiny face.

"And I thought men had only one mid-life crisis…" Allison rolled her eyes. "What is taking so long?" she exclaimed a few minutes later when Janey's rear-end was still wiggling in the open door of the backseat.

"Sorry 'bout that Dr., Mrs House, another client…are you ready to sign?" Janey held the papers out with a pen that had a micro size picture of her and phone number to Greg.

Greg took the papers and pen but didn't use them. He looked at Allison who looked anxious and agitated clearly ready to be gone. He followed the blue flags noting where he was to scrawl his name above the red flags and loopy pretty signature of 'Allison House' on all but the last page.

"I want to look through the house one last time—say good bye," he flipped closed the papers suddenly, handing them to Janey but his attention was directly on Allison. Her dark glasses hid her eyes—her eyes told it all, she knew that as well as he did but her body language was speaking as it was rigid and closed.

Janey's mouth opened but before she could protest Greg turned on the seldom used charm "Come on, for old time's sake?" He looked over to Allison who wiped her face—he saw a couple tears fall from under the rim of her glasses.

"Sure…I guess that would be…" Janey began.

"Great!" Greg interrupted turning fully to Allison "Want to go come with me?" he asked her.

"No—I've got to get going—its late and I've got errands," Allison rushed trying to sound calm, collected but her shaking gave her away—but only to her husband.

"Ten minutes, twenty tops," Greg wheedled with a crooked boyish grin that he knew would get him almost anything…or at least it had before.

"Fine, twenty minutes."

"I'll wait here, I have a few phone calls to make," Janey broke into the emotional exchange oblivious to it.

"Good. Because you weren't invited," Greg grinned vindictively as he guided Allison with a hand that was almost touching the small of her back.

Allison was hit with a wave of nostalgia—she was thrown back to the first time she and Greg had walked the driveway together…

**_  
"This is it! _**Oh Greg…this is the house!" Allison cried throwing open the passenger door of the Ford 500.

Greg wasn't as smitten. The lawn was brown and bare, the shrubs were but sticks and the driveway had weeds pushing their way up through the cement. He hadn't the stomach to look at the house.

Greg got out the car and got to hear Allison gushing to the realtor who was a middle aged woman, about curtains, paint schemes and landscaping plans—he could and did groan. It seemed his eager wife had already moved them in and was playing Martha Stewart at the same time. He decided it might be a good time to see how bad of a death trap the house was.

He was appalled. The house…well the paint was peeling and probably contained lead and where the paint was still clinging, it was a faded, an awful shade of puce. The porch looked to be caving, the roof looked iffy beneath the carpet of moss and the small trees growing in the gutter (they actually looked better then the trees in the yard).

"Has this place been inspected? It looks like it should have been condemned a few code violations ago…" he approached Thelma Morris the Century 21 agent, and Allison who were waiting for him by the porch. Allison gave him a testy 'make another remark like that and you'll be cut off for a month…I want this house' look. He gave an exaggerate frown then stuck his tongue out at her when Thelma turned to look at the house. Allison tried not to laugh.

"No, but the sellers are the original owners…and" Thelma tried but Greg was quick to interject.

"Okay, original owners would really make a difference to me if I was buying a car—but not really so much when it comes to a house. I don't care if twenty people have owned it, I just want to know how many have died from infectious mold," he tried to go on but Allison stomped on his toes. "What? Hello, infectious dieses specialist here, I am going to ask about these things, I don't care if this is your dream house!" Allison gave him the turned head look that told him he was very much walking a thin line. Like he cared.

"Well I understand your concerns Dr. House but you have to take into account the age of the house and the normal wear and tear incurred but I am sure your agent will advise you to have an inspection before you make an offer." Thelma looked down her nose.

Greg laughed raucously--mockingly, Allison glared.

"Let me show you the inside, I think you'll just love the living room it is just…" Thelma diverted back to her sunshine and roses pitch as if nothing had happened.

"I want this house Greg…" Allison linked her arm into the crook of his.

Greg drew in a deep breath guiding them over the broken steps and into the sagging doorway. What men would do, **_and buy, for love…_**

Greg opened the dark stained door with big brass handle and matching knocker waiting for Allison to follow him in. She looked at him as she did but as her eyes were still covered with large glasses he had no idea what exactly her thoughts were. Was she remembering the day they moved in, as he was…?

**_  
"Greg put me down!" _**Allison giggled as Greg scooped her up preparing to carry her across the porch of their new home. "Your leg…you could…" she started breathlessly.

"It's been five weeks, the ketamine isn't wearing off. Just let me carry you over the threshold before I break my back," he laughed putting her down on what they had been assured where pine floors under the thick film of mire and neglect, in their very own foyer.

"I am so happy Greg! I can just picture us growing old here…I love you," she circled his neck with her arms kissing him playfully.

"I buy you a shack with a roof that is all but falling on your head and a floor that is probably being ravaged by termites as we speak and you are happy…you will never cease to amaze me…" he framed her face with his hands and he peered into her eyes mystified that she loved him, that she was happy with him.

"It's astounding what love will do to you…makes those so called flaws all rose colored and good," she smiled leaning up to kiss him.

"Still naïve…don't change though, I love you for it," he kissed her nose. "What would I do without your eternal and I might add sickening optimism?"

"You're never going to find out…let the world go away and let the house fall down, **_I'm here."…_**

"I made sure to tell Janey to tell the Parkers about oiling the floors…and the tendency of the living room sliders to stick," Allison said absently going to the sliding double wood doors that led to the living room to the right of the foyer.

"They are getting a way better deal than we did…" Greg leaned against a wall watching her move about restlessly.

He hadn't seen her in almost four months. He figured selling the house was the final move before she filed for divorce.

"Yes but they are paying for it. We are getting our money back and then some," Allison shrugged finally taking off her sunglasses.

"I suppose you're right," he started.

"Well are you going to just hold up that wall or are you going to look around?" Allison stood at the base of the stairs a hand on the painstakingly restored banister.

Greg breathed in as he pushed away, "Let's get this chapter closed."

Allison couldn't have agreed more. She wanted to be done with the house with him. It killed her. They had been so happy here not so very long ago…they had had a wonderful life and everything had been so good…not so long ago…

* * *

**TBC... **


	2. Chapter 2

_**Previously…**_

…Allison couldn't have agreed more. She wanted to be done with the house with him. It killed her. They had been so happy here not so very long ago…they had had a wonderful life and everything had been so good…not so long ago

* * *

"**_She domesticated you big time_** House, she's got you doing things Stacy wouldn't have even dreamed of getting you to do," Wilson saluted his friend as they sat in the tore apart living room of the House's new home. Their chairs were folding lawn lounges and the table that held their scotch was a packing crate. 

"Yes, I suppose she has," House laughed more amazed then amused.

"It is shocking to me…we are sitting in your house which is a total torn apart mess I might add and it's you and Allison that plan to fix it…You are refinishing the wood floors and I am told that it is your stunning wife who plans to lay the tile in your kitchen…amazing," Wilson smirked.

"Watch what you say about my wife and as it happens I'm handy. Never knew it before, never cared to find out but it seems I am a regular Bob Vila or Velveeta…whatever that guy's name is that hawks those Craftsman tools. And Ally…well she's like that really hot chick from that home makeover show…oh and like from out of nowhere, Julia Child…she cooks better then you," House nodded with raised eyebrows as he lifted his glass. "She's this domestic goddess all of a sudden—totally bizarre."

"Really? Well maybe she and I should swap recipes," Wilson rolled his eyes "Where is Mrs. House anyway?" he leaned back crossing his legs refilling his and House's glass.

"She had to work late tonight. She takes over as head of immunology next month plus she has been working with Cuddy on revamping pediatrics."

"I don't know how you two are doing it. What with you running a new fellowship, her new job…and remodeling a house? I would have cracked by now. What's the secret?"

House grinned, "Wild, kinky, all night sex."

Wilson rolled his eyes, "And that's enough?"

"What can I say? I am, that good," House wagged his eyebrows.

"More then I needed to know."

They shared a laugh and a little more scotch.

"So, I hear you sold the bike to get another sedan. A four door, a one step before mini-van, sedan…" Wilson couldn't help but needle.

"Hey the 500 is nothing to sneeze at. It has an American built engine, leather interior, the six CD in dash stereo—it's the Limited with every available feature plus the largest capacity trunk in its class."

"You have another one just like it and come on, largest trunk? What is that supposed to mean? It also has anchors for car seats; it's a 'family wagon'. You sold your Honda racing bike for that…I bet you carry your wife's purse too," Wilson chuckled having quite a good time.

"You know an awful lot about the car considering—and I still have the bike."

"I thought Allison didn't like you riding it."

"She doesn't, but I couldn't get rid of it I mean come on it's a Honda racing bike, I've got it stored," House shrugged slyly.

"Does she know that?"

House didn't answer**_, just grinned…_**

Greg stood in the entry way of the living room. The floors were perfect, the walls were a light creamy, pale yellow and the window seat which faced the front lawn had the cushion Allison had sewn the first week they had been there.

He had told her of course that it would be a better use of her time if she thought about how they were going to redo the cracked and bubbled ceiling or replace the plasterboard that had holes the size of saucers instead of focusing on something that was figuratively and literally window dressing.

They almost had a fight about it. She had told him that if he had somehow gained some spontaneous knowledge on how to do those things then he could enlighten her and she would be more then glad to do those projects but if he hadn't then she was going to use one of the two skills she had retained from Home Economics and sew a damn window seat cushion.

He smiled faintly remembering her determination as she hunched over the foam and fabric, the cushion was lumpy and the cover fitted rather ill but it didn't matter, she had made something for her house and she was proud of it—and he was proud of her. But they did go out and take out every book from the library they could on home remodeling and they visited with the staff at Home Depot more than once.

Greg looked to see if maybe she was remembering something of the good times too but she wasn't there. He exited the living room heading across to the dining room.

She was standing in the middle of the red painted room where their dining room table had been. "I love this room…it was perfect." She said aloud but not necessarily to Greg...

**_  
"I want to host Thanksgiving," _**Allison declared putting her brush on top the paint can.

"You do realize that we have plastic for windows, the floor is still stripped, the plaster on the ceiling is wet and Thanksgiving is two weeks away…oh and neither one of us came into the relationship with dining room table and don't get me started on the kitchen…"

She rolled her eyes, "We'll be ready! I mean yes the kitchen is kind of tore apart but I've got the tile laid, I've only got to grot and seal it and we're practically finished in here…" she was exuberant and beaming as she gestured her ideas into being with her hands.

"You are hopelessly optimistic my dear," Greg approached her eyes laughing.

"You're laughing at me!" she hit him on the shoulder.

"Yes without a doubt I am and you would be laughing too if you were at all rational." He wrapped his arms around her waist kissing the various stripes of primer on her face.

"Fine, maybe…but let's going shopping for a table tomorrow. I know this great little antique store…We have to have a table that has a history—not some new cookie cutter table that is mass produced, no we need one that…" she was nearly giddy as her mind raced with ideas.

"I'll make you a deal; I'll finish the dining room if you find the table."

"You don't want to pick it out with me?" she pouted pulling back.

"I'm not a shopper, that's your department."

"But we should pick it out together, it's important!" she frowned.

"How about this, you go and do a preliminary, select your favorite three then I'll come and we'll pick together from there."

Her frown dissipated, "But you'll still finish the dining room so I can finish the kitchen floor?" she looked skeptically at him.

"Yes! You drive a hard bargain but I must say we are getting good at this marriage thing—we just compromised and everything. We should get a reward…" his hands roamed her back then dipped to cup her derriere pulling her firmly against him.

"Greg," she giggled.

"What?"

"You're terrible," she kissed his neck. "Take me upstairs," she purred.

"No need—we haven't christened this room yet," he laid her down on the drop cloth covered floor.

"Hmm," she sighed as he slowly undid the buttons on her tattered shirt which had originally been his.

"Didn't know fading paint fumes were an aphrodisiac did you…?" he ran his hands along the band of her ripped faded jeans.

"I didn't…nor did I think drop cloths could be more erotic then satin sheets," she raked her hands through his hair.

"Hmm," it was his turn to sigh his words muffled as he kissed a little trail from her belly button, along her abdomen, the valley between her braless breasts to her throat.

"Make love to me Greg," she whispered straining against his hands.

"In time—we've got **_the rest of our lives for rushing_."**

Allison blocked out the memories and went through the swing door to the kitchen. She wanted away from the man who was suffocating her. But the kitchen wasn't the place to do it. The memories were as oppressing, if not more, then the man who followed her in.

"Surprised the buyers didn't stipulate that money be laid aside if the floor wasn't retiled," Greg commented.

She glared at him, "Why? There is nothing wrong with this floor!"

Greg grinned stepping to where the fridge had been gesturing with his eyes to tiles that were crooked and slightly chipped.

"We were on a deadline and a budget…they aren't seen! They are under the refrigerator!" she lashed

"I was only teasing," he raised his hand as if to touch her but checked himself in time.

She stepped away eyes piercing. He felt the gesture as deeply as if she had slapped him.

**_  
"Oh no you don't!_** Get back from those cookies!" Allison slapped at her husband's hand.

"I've been working all day and I can't even have one cookie?" he whined.

"Worked all day? Don't talk to me about work, I've done laundry, I weeded the flower bed and I've baked cookies and you good sir, have only taken out the trash and yet you want to put your grubby hands all over _my _cookies…" she taunted him with a chocolate chip cookie which was still warm and melting on her fingers.

"You're just mean," he watched her eat it.

"You poor baby come here…" she beckoned him to her side of the kitchen island. He went without leaving her gaze. She lifted her hip onto the counter with a grin, seductively licking the chocolate from her thumb.

"You are such a tease," he grinned as she crossed and uncrossed her legs, "Check that—slut," he amended.

Allison giggled flightily, capturing her husband by wrapping her legs around him. "Open," she instructed while waving another cookie just under his nose.

He smiled and obliged. She inched the cookie toward him and when he was just close enough to bite, she yanked it back and ate it herself.

"I married a tease!" he escaped her hold backing to the sink and retrieving the faucet sprayer. "Give me a cookie Lolita," he raised it.

She leaned back against the second tier of the island and shook her head daring him.

"I will do it," he raised it higher.

"Go ahead, you're cleaning up the mess Colonel," she countered still perched demurely on the granite counter.

"I'm not kidding…" House gestured.

"Quit talking and show me some action," she licked her lip.

So he did.

He laughed at her shock. "You…you…" she sputtered dripping.

"I told you I would if you didn't give a cookie!"

"You want a cookie? You think you can handle the cookie? Well come get the cookie!" she lifted her eyebrows grabbing the doctor bag shaped cookie jar and sprinting for the breakfast room.

He followed with a playful growl trapping her between the table and the windowed walls.

"Come on…" he coaxed.

She sat the cookie jar on the table between them and nudged it in his direction.

"No, I'm afraid my darlin' that I no longer want to get my 'grubby' hands on _those _cookies…" he slyly winked **_and she, though a grown woman, blushed_**.

"I bought these counter tops for you for our one year anniversary…you hated that you had to make Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner on the tacky laminate ones…" Greg leaned against the very place she had sat in the recalled memory.

"Paper," Allison bit her lip eyes wandering around the room, "Paper is the traditional first year gift. I spent days making you a collage picture for the office wall…and a scrapbook of our wedding…and you bought me granite." She forced down scalding tears with a fake laugh.

"You were a beautiful bride."

She shrugged biting her lip.

* * *

_**TBC...**_  
Thank you for the reviews :0) I know this story isn't very happy at the moment but let me assure you I am a big believer in happy endings ;o) 


	3. Chapter 3

**Previously…**

"Paper," Allison bit her lip eyes wandering around the room, "Paper is the traditional first year gift. I spent days making you a collage picture for the office wall…and a scrapbook of our wedding…and you bought me granite." She forced down scalding tears with a fake laugh.  
"You were a beautiful bride."  
She shrugged biting her lip.

* * *

"**_Cuddy, tell me I'm doing the right thing!"_** Cameron was shaking like a leaf.

"Allison you love him, it's ridiculous how much you love him—and it's sickening how much he loves you!" Cuddy laughed uncomfortably.

"Really?" Cameron laughed too, till she cried.

"What did I say?" Cuddy patted the younger woman on the shoulder awkwardly trying to comfort her though she had no idea what she was doing.

"Is it too soon? I mean we really rushed…Stacy was barely out of the picture when we started dating…I mean we know each other well, it's not that it's just…I mean he proposed to me three months later! We had a kid dying, a benefit happening in the hospital lobby and he asks me to marry him!

Marriage Cuddy, come on everybody said Stacy was the love of his life and he dated her for practically forever, never married her…now he's marrying me? Is he doing it because he feels guilty? I know what happened with Foreman getting sick kind of spooked Greg but to move the wedding up this much…maybe he's not marrying me because he loves me but because…." Cameron moaned hand on her stomach which was churning.

"Listen to me," Cuddy took hold of both Cameron's arms forcing her to look her in the eyes; "He loves you, simple. He no longer loves Stacy…he realized that when she showed back up, even when that—well—whatever you want to call it—_tryst_—happened, he wasn't in love with her. He was just hanging onto a memory of when he was happy, when he wasn't hurting and she was his link back to that. Once he dealt with it, he realized, because we all know House is a damn stubborn child blinder then a bat with anything not medically related, that it is you that makes him happy _now_.

He can't erase his past just as you can't erase your life with your first husband—but you are no longer the people you were then. But who you are now are two people so disgustingly in love and the embodiment of Hallmark sentiment it makes people want to hurl."

"But what about five, ten years from now… what if in six months he's tired of me? What if he resents me…what if thinks me made a mistake and wants Stacy not me…?" Cameron was distraught, uncharacteristically so.

Cuddy grew frustrated. A jittery bride who was hell-bent on finding a reason, any reason, even if she had to imagine it to be upset was not going to be assured by her—no matter what she said.

"He loves you, you're getting married…" Cuddy stood from her chair in front of the bride who sat bemoaning on the sofa; "Be happy, buck up! I am going to go get you (and me) something a little stronger than tap water." She escaped so she could try and figure out the most reasonable way to get the bride up the aisle only marginally drunk. After that, it would be to them to make the marriage work…and House to supply the booze. As she left the door of the Bride's Room she wondered if Wilson was having this much trouble with House.

--------------------------

"You decent?"

"Greg?! You can't be here!" Cameron shrieked dashing behind the changing screen just as her bridegroom came through the door, she had been expecting Cuddy. "You're not supposed to see me before the wedding! Especially not in my dress! Get out…What are you doing here?"

"Contradicting commands my dear…but the wedding is in twenty minutes so I think it doesn't matter much if I see you," he ambled to the screen hanging his cane on it as he leaned to look over.

"It doesn't matter if it's two months or two minutes!" she stuck her hand in his face.

"Fine, no looking," he relented using his cane to hook one of the legs on an ottoman, pulling it to him and sitting. "Cuddy says you're having second thoughts."

"I'm not having second thoughts!" her voice was close to shrill.

"Good, then what's up?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? Hun, I can hear you hiccupping and I have to say that your sniffing every other breath isn't very becoming."

"I'm…I'm just so happy!" she tried to say but burst into uncontrollable gasping tears.

"Dude, are you sure you're not pregnant? You're awfully emotional, I could get Cuddy in here with a test and we could know before you walk down the aisle…" he said, thinking he was helping, but found out he was doing the contrary as her wailing increased. He scratched his head as to why a bride would wail when it was suggest she was pregnant on her wedding day.

"If you don't tell me what's wrong I can't fix it," House twirled his cane.

"I am just worried…you don't want to do this…"

"What, get married? Babe, you are the one who is hysterical behind the screen I might point out…" he paused as Cuddy came through the door a bottle of tequila and two large glasses in hand. He glared and Cuddy lifted her shoulders in a manner that seemed to say "what? You want to get married; I am trying to make sure that happens…you never said in what condition you wanted the bride, I figured if tipsy got her through the vows then tipsy it would be…But if you don't appreciate my cleverness then I'll leave" and went back out the door, but left the liquor, just in case.

"I don't want you to regret this…I don't want you wish that I was…I just don't want you to feel like you have to marry me…That I'm rushing you," Cameron changed her train of thought several times as she danced ever closer to the real anxiety.

"Ally, I asked you to marry me because I thought you were ready, that it was what you wanted."

"What**_ I_** wanted?" her head shot up over the screen to glare at House but quickly ducked back, "Are you saying that is why you proposed, because you thought I wanted you to, not because _you_ wanted to?"

"No, yes…Damn you are confusing! Yes I asked you because I thought you wanted me to, I would be a fool to ask you if I thought you didn't want to get married, how asinine would that be? If you think that I would do something, especially as big as marriage, just because someone wanted me to you are a moron…or pregnant…or just on the side of crazy—but I'll dismiss this as wedding day jitters…if you're sure you're not pregnant…" he answered voice growing a little louder with his ardent words.

Cameron's gasp filled the room, "You…you…" she sputtered.

"I love you Allison, I want to marry you, I don't love Stacy—I've been over Stacy for a long time and I can promise you I harbor no desire to hook-up with Stacy. I thought we had dealt with this, but as I can see you need to be reminded, let me reiterate; I love you, it took a damned long time to get there but as you know I am not a man known for my emotional spontaneity…but I'm devoted once I decide to be, you have to give me that, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, marry you and all that other romantic BS you women so like to hear! I mean it all, if you can possibly think it, I mean it to the fifth power!" House threw up his hands and mockingly huffed, "There, you ruined my vows and in result the ceremony because I'm going to look awfully stupid up there saying after you 'ditto', are you happy?"

Cameron's head again came over the screen mouth hanging open in disbelief—but she closed it when she saw his grin playfully lopsided. "We didn't write our vows…" she paused, "But you would talk about your ex-girlfriend during our wedding…and berate any and every idea of romance and love?" she feigned hurt.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, I would have gone version B for the ceremony and I would have said something like Madam X and add the disclaimer how the names had been changed to protect the guilty or something," he stood folding his arms over the edge of the screen now eye to eye with her.

She stared into his beautiful laughing blue eyes and fought a chuckle; she loved the man too much, so much that it was, as Cuddy put it, ridiculous.

House waited a beat, "You feel better?" genuine warmth and concern crept to tinge his voice.

Cameron nodded with a faint smile.

"Good 'cause we got a date in…" he glanced at the wall clock, "oh, ten minutes. Fix your make-up and I'll see you then," he kissed her nose and with his uneven yet perfect, in Cameron's eyes, stride left the room.

As House left, Cuddy entered to help mend the water works and fix the hair. By the time, Mr. Cameron came to escort the bride the tequila was stashed in Cuddy's purse—there was still the reception to get through after all.

--------------------------

The ceremony was held in the Glass Garden Atrium of the Violet restaurant. Three of the four walls were glass, the steeple roof was glass. The 180 view looked out to January snow which covered the Violet's award winning gardens with a thick blanket of white that the brilliant sun made glint like diamonds.

The aisle Cameron came down was ivory, the hothouse roses she carried and the ribbons on the chairs were scarlet. Her gown was elegant, simple falling in a train behind her that looked like a lace waterfall. Brown curls laid loose about her bare shoulders, her veil couldn't hide her glow and wide smile.

House stood at the front of the atrium with Wilson at his side. He wore no cummerbund, blatantly refusing and the bowtie had been added to the cummerbund not twenty minutes after donning. Cameron seeing him almost laughed out loud, this man with his stubbornness, his brusque temperament, his total contempt for form and manners was the absolute love of her life. Truth was that they were opposites; they were opposing teams, so to speak. She liked etiquette, she liked kindness and she liked bowties and cummerbunds, but she like two buttons undone with bare chest peaking, better. She liked who she was when she was with House better then who she was without him. And even though he had shaved for the wedding, she liked the bit of bristle better too.

As she neared House's heart thudded harder than it had ever before, then it all but stopped. Her father was handing him her hand, he looked into her face and he knew nothing else. This was the woman who had hammered and forced her way into his heart and he had never been gladder for one woman's incessant need to heal, to love. He fought her for so many reasons, he denied every seedling of feeling he had had for her for such a long time because he knew she was too good for him. Too right, too uppity, too beautiful, too moral, too innocent…too good, and he was just all wrong. Or so he believed then. Thank God, she hadn't listened to him when he said so. She had fought to get him to notice her to love her but now she was just offering herself, her hand, and he was no longer fighting! He was accepting!

The wedding wasn't very formal but she wore the dress, he had put on the suit (it wasn't even crumpled or previously a resident on his floor), people had arrived, his parents had flown in and her family had come. The wedding photos both posed and candid showed a couple that love had found and eternally bound. There was mirth and gladness that had no end—it was a day that was the greatest of their lives. **_It was beginning of their life._**

They both looked away as the memories haunting in each other's eyes became too much to bare. Allison left first, going out of the breakfast room across the hall and into what had been their office and library. When they had moved in the area had been two smallish bedrooms, they knocked out the wall and turned it into their retreat.

The office had shelves that had once held their knickknacks and various medical journals and textbooks. Her desk had looked out into the backyard garden; his had looked at her…The collage she had made with the black and white pictures of their wedding had hung on the partial wall leading into the library.

Through the columned archway was the library. Wall to wall built-in bookshelves in dark cherry wood and since they had been always been avid readers, books had filled each and every shelf. Some collected through the years and many that had been bought together...they all now sat in a storage unit. Soft lighting with overstuffed chairs beneath had collected in the middle of the floor with the Persian rug that had been a wedding gift from his parents invoking a feeling of warmth—a feeling of refuge.

Hours they had spent there, him in his brown wearing leather club chair, feet propped on the mismatched ottoman and her in the patterned textile chaise their wine on the table between. They had discussed cases, politics, the next big renovation or things as mundane as what to fix for dinner.

"It looks barren," Greg folded his arms standing in the doorway between the two spaces.

"That's because it is. I asked Janey if I should've had something in here, but she said no," Allison paced as far away from him as she could.

"Yeah well I think Janey has her head shoved up…" he started but a withering glare from his wife stopped him.

"You could have been involved in this at any time, but you walked away," she pushed through clenched teeth.

His stiffened arms dropped to his sides, there was no meaning lost on him, "Fine," he didn't argue.

Allison nodded licking her lips, she didn't want to fight she just wanted it done.

* * *

**TBC... **

**A side note: I realized that I didn't state in the note at the beginning of this story that this story is not any way connected to my two previous House stories; it's a pure stand alone. I merely have grouped them together under the heading of the 'Costello/Jones Collection' because all the stories were inspired by the music of Elvis Costello and/or Norah Jones…oh heck I'll be honest, I thought the name sounded cool and it seemed like a good idea at the time—it is terribly gimmicky I know…truly I've reflected. Anyway, sorry for the confusion—also if you want to view the lyrics to the songs mentioned in chapter one there are links to them in my profile. Thanks so much!! RA**


	4. Chapter 4

**Previously…**

"It looks barren," Greg folded his arms standing in the doorway between the two spaces.

"That's because it is. I asked Janey if I should've had something in here, but she said no," Allison paced as far away from him as she could.

"Yeah well I think Janey has her head shoved up…" he started but a withering glare from his wife stopped him.

"You could have been involved in this at any time, but you walked away," she pushed through clenched teeth.

His stiffened arms dropped to his sides, there was no meaning lost on him, "Fine," he didn't argue.

Allison nodded licking her lips, she didn't want to fight she just wanted it done.

* * *

"**_It was a long day…"_** Allison groaned curling into the chaise pulling the velvet throw from the back.

"Yeah," Greg answered absently going to the office flipping through the day's case file as he sat behind his desk.

"I would think giving the hospital eighteen hours and a man his life back would be enough for one day…" she grumbled under her breath realizing the all too familiar scene of Greg becoming engrossed in his work when he should have been relaxing with her.

She was tired, she was grouchy and feeling very neglected. They had hardly seen each other the last month, she had been wrapped up working with Cuddy to get more funding for the new immunology lab and he had of course been solving complex, life saving cases daily. But they had had a chance to be together today. He had called not long after arriving to work; he had come in an hour later, and asked for her to help with his latest case. She was more than willing, her tasks and appointments could be rearranged. It was time together; she didn't care how it came.

But she hadn't intended on him delegating her to running labs. She spent the day behind a centrifuge trying not to cry. She had thought he wanted her for a sounding board that he wanted her input and ideas not to be a damn intern. But she had taken a breath and composed herself. She knew she was helping, having results he could trust enabled him to do his job better. She played an intrinsic part, she told herself. But that was at work, they weren't at work now—they were home and they weren't colleagues here, they were husband and wife. Work was work and home was home…she wanted him home.

She waited a half hour hoping he would put down the file but instead, he booted his computer and turned on his desk lamp. Frustrated and exhausted she headed for the kitchen. She pawed through the cabinets, fridge and freezer hoping for something to soothe. After banging closed doors and taking aggression out on the dishes, she departed with a bowl of strawberry ice-cream.

She went back to the library resituating herself on the chaise, blanket on her legs she took a spoonful of ice-cream and savored it. She closed her eyes and let the tension start slowly to melt away. The ice-cream was decadent, lush and rich with real hunks of strawberries—it was the best ice-cream she had ever eaten…Greg had bought it for her…

It had been a month ago she had told him about this ice-cream she had as a little girl when she and her parents had went on vacation in Pennsylvania Dutch country. She couldn't remember the name but she had described in every detail and the place they had gotten it. Two weeks later, she had come home to find two half-gallon containers waiting for her. She hadn't asked for it, hadn't even hinted—she hadn't even suspected. There had been no holiday, no insensitive act that needed forgiveness it was just—because.

Allison shook her head slightly as she scraped the bowl, thinking about her husband's care. He might not always be aware of what she was feeling but he loved her. He had ordered her ice-cream just because he knew it would make her happy, no other motive. Most men would have, if they thought of it, gone to the grocery store and bought some store brand and think they were golden for doing so, because surely any unsolicited, unexpected signs of affection scored major points. But not Greg, no, he had hunted the specific ice-cream down and talked the store owner into shipping it overnight. No motive, no reason.

Nevertheless, even as much a super-man as he was, he was still human and allowed a few slips.

She settled back all irritation fading as she watched him work letting her thoughts slow and ease. It was his dedication that first drew him to her and though it sometimes frustrated her, it still remained something that was undeniably sexy.

He was bent over his desk, jacket long gone and the sleeves of his blue dress shirt rolled to the elbows, two buttons undone, his bare chest showing. He wore his reading glasses which showed his exhaustion was as heavy as hers, for he hardly ever wore them—even they with their wire half frame were sexy to her. The yellowish light shone on him and it was like falling in love all over again. He rubbed his forehead absently, expression intent as he moved pages amid the manila file. She felt at ease, simply watching him work. She loved him, loved simply being with him—just loved him, and all his brooding intensity.

An hour passed and finally Greg looked up meeting his wife's tender gaze. "What? You're staring," he smiled curiously laying his glasses aside then rubbing his eyes with both hands.

Allison just smiled.

"Come on—what's up, you've got that look," he stood stretching, rolling his neck.

Allison kept smiling, "Come here, babe," she scooted back patting the cushion in front on her.

Greg chuckled quietly still not sure what she was up to but followed her directions and sat as she directed with his back to her.

Sitting on her knees, she began to knead his shoulders. She smiled when he let a small groan of thanks escape.

"I really appreciate your help today…" he began slowly as her hands worked magic on the knots brought on by the day, "This case was…was crazy and having you there—knowing I could trust you let me do my job…it put me at ease…" he furthered with an almost embarrassed laugh.

She smiled unimaginably pleased then kissed the nape of his neck, "I was just thinking the same thing about you…" she kissed along his neck tenderly.

Greg pulled her to the front setting her into his lap. She fit perfectly as always, her head on his shoulder and his arms around her. They silenced finally breathing easier then they had done in a long while. It was a most needed respite.

"Do you want to read the new article on the treatment of Huntington's? There are notes on the case in Britain that had been long misdiagnosed as McLeod Neuroacanthocytosis syndrome…the whole issue is dedicated to genetic disorders," Greg slid all the way back into the chaise and picking up the latest edition of the Medical Journal of Greater Britain from the side table opening it. The respite was broken.

Allison rearranged herself in his arms, "Sounds good," she answered around a yawn.

"Huntington's is the inherited neurological disease that occurs in gene IT-15…" Greg began aloud.

Allison's ear lay over his chest and she listened to it rumble and reverberated with his voice as he read. It was the most soothing sound she ever heard. It lulled her and she began to feel very, very tired…

"Are you bored? I don't have to keep reading…though I think this case is interesting…" Greg nudged his wife as her eyes drooped close.

"No…keep…reading…I'm listening," she murmured trying to keep her eyes open.

"Patient X's symptoms were greatly…" Greg continued but a faint snoring stopped him, "Allison…honey…?"

"I'm …listening…" she mumbled as she snuggled deeper into him.

Greg snickered shaking his head. He laid down the journal then tucked the throw blanket around her a little more. He used the remote for the lights dimming them till they were all but off.

"I love you," Allison yawned shifting a little in his arms.

"Hmmm, love you too," he kissed her hair thinking what a lucky, lucky man he was just **_before joining her in sleep._**

She was done with the office and library; it was different kind of hurt in there. She exited out to the hall via the wood sliders. There was just the upstairs left, she went up the short hall beside the stairwell past the doors to the living room and waited in the foyer for Greg to follow.

Greg came moments after her, walking the pine floors that squeaked in the familiar places. He stepped into the foyer and saw her standing there solemn and bleak in front of the large oak door with its antique brass patina peep-hole and handle and the leaded glass inserts on either side. How many times had they come through…how many times had people traipsed in and out…? Many…too many too count, he answered silently.

"**_This is insane Lisa _**if they aren't answering their phone it is probably because they don't want to be disturbed! I think between the diagnostic team, Chase, Foreman and ourselves we can have it figured out by morning…" Wilson ran his hand through his hair anxiously.

Cuddy glared ignoring him as she marched up the stairs and across the porch to ring the bell. They waited, no one answered. Cuddy rang again. They heard heavy footstep then finally the door opened.

"What?" was the sharp snarky greeting.

Cuddy and Wilson couldn't speak; words couldn't even begin to form. House stood in black boxers, a long white lab coat…and nothing else, unless you counted the stethoscope around his neck and the old fashioned surgeons head lamp on his forehead.

"Um…you do realize Dr…" Wilson was first to recover retracting his dropped chin, he leaned in a bit to read the name tag on the coat, "Dr. Feel-Good that its children who trick-or-treat on Halloween, _not _porn stars…"

House rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers, "Darn! And I was so hoping this year would be different!" He turned just as Allison was coming off the final step of the stairs, "Aw, Nurse Pussygalore, you see we have guests!" he gestured to Wilson and Cuddy outside the door.

Cuddy choked, Wilson blushed averting his eyes. Allison appeared at her husband's side in a skin tight, form fitting, nurse's outfit…but the buttons were bursting in the bust to reveal a scarlet red bra and the skirt had matching slits on either side that went nearly to the hip…and the stockings were neither white nor support, but rather black…and fishnet. It didn't help that her nurse's hat was skewed, her hair mussed, that her lipstick was blood red and smudged, and that she had four inch black stilettos on.

"If you notice, it's two in the afternoon, kids don't come till dark…but it seems pestering bosses and colleagues do," House leaned against the doorjamb having no inclinations to do the polite thing and invite them in.

"Um…we…have this case," Wilson started offering the file as he raised his hand to shield his eyes from Allison. Allison for her part thought the gesture nice, but not necessary.

"We don't work on Sunday's," House answered folding his arms.

"What are the symptoms…? Is the patient stable?" Allison reached for the file immediately concerned. House rolled his eyes at his wife; she wasn't at all helping to show a united front…

"Greg, we need to get the hospital, if we can't figure out what's wrong this woman is going to have complete kidney failure and the rest of the organs are going to follow," Allison said gravely showing him the file.

House reluctantly looked, "Hell, it'll be amazing if she's still alive when we get there…" he reached for their coats that hung on the hook board next to the door, "Cuddy you better call the hospital and get her on…What?" he stopped his orders as Wilson and Cuddy looked gaped mouth at him.

"Don't you think you should…you know, change?" Cuddy raised her eyebrows.

"No time, we'll get scrubs there," House answered holding Allison's coat for her then handed her her purse from its spot on the table that also held his keys.

"It will be the first time I think anybody at the hospital has seen him in a lab coat…and it will be with the name tag Dr. Feel-Good," Wilson shook his head following House and Allison as they headed down the walk to their car.

"He's the one they call Dr. Feel-Good, he's the one that makes ya feel alright…" House hearing the comment sang.

"**_He's gonna be your Frankenstein," Allison added._**

Once Greg was there, Allison went to the stairs and started up. Greg followed and couldn't help but observe. She was moving a little gingerly, not affected…but careful. He wondered if she was sleeping well. It would explain why her make-up was so heavy—to cover dark circles—also, why she had kept the sunglasses on so long. He would wager that she had lost weight, but couldn't confirm since she was still in her thick bulky wool coat.

They reached the landing and it was then he saw her hand which gripped the banister shake. He came up behind her, "its okay…" he said softly.

She shook her head, "No, it's not." She walked away from him taking the right hall which had two doors the door to their bedroom was open. She entered the master suite headed to the bathroom first for it was furthest from Greg.

Greg stepped into what had been their bedroom and looked at the closed bathroom door. It was a stunning room with marble counters and deep soaker tub built for two. The shower was glass with a wall and floor of slate…it could have easily fit six. It was luxurious and had locks that would rival Fort Knox.

"**_Allison come on! _**In case you haven't noticed I haven't had a chance to take a shower…and we're running late…" Greg pounded on the door jiggling the handle but found it locked.

There was no answer. "Ally, Cuddy forgives an hour…hell it's us she'll forgive two…but babe if you don't get out you'll be pushing it," he shouted through the door.

Allison sat on the toilet elbows on her knees breathing hard. The flu…she thought she had flu, but the little stick she had just peed on clearly proclaimed that it was not influenza that she had come down with, but a baby.

They hadn't been trying, but it wasn't something they had adamantly been avoiding either. She had been on the pill, but she was a doctor she knew that there some instances where it failed. She covered her mouth to stop either a cry or a laugh, she wasn't sure which.

Finally, her husband's poundings registered. She left the pregnancy test on the counter opening the door.

"About time, what were you doing in there?!" he gawked at her wet head and robe. She didn't answer, just smirked a little and sat on the bench at the end of their bed.

The door hadn't been closed a full ten seconds when it was wrenched back open, "Cameron!" Greg drew the name out in a loud demanding cry.

"I haven't been Cameron in a long time," she played coy.

"Fine, Mrs House," he amended with an outrageous smile peaking from behind his bluster, "What is this?" he raised the PT.

"That Dr. House is an over the counter at home pregnancy test. This particular brand detects…"

"I know what it is, what I want to know is what that pink line means…" he pushed out through quick shallow breaths.

She watched his chest heave with anticipation and she couldn't help but let him wait just a little longer.

"Come on woman, speak!" he laughed shakily the grin widening.

"What do you think it means?" she grinned letting her subdued face fall to the wayside. Her tone left no doubt.

Greg let a whoop of excitement and pulled her from the bench twirling her, "My baby is having my baby!"

Allison laughed as he threw her on the bed. "You know everyone at the hospital is going to be horrified that you reproduced…" she giggled leaning up on her elbows to meet his face as he held himself above her.

"Oh they knew when got together it was just a matter of time," he slyly grinned untying her robe pushing it away to expose her flat stomach.

"So…right here…in this very spot…our baby is growing," he sounded in awe as he traced his finger in a wide circle around her bellybutton.

"I know, kind of gross, like an X-File or something," she played with his hair, "She's going to have your eyes you know."

Greg looked up and leaned in to kiss her, "So sure it's going to be a girl huh…" he teased against her lips, "I think he is going to have your ears," he nibbled at her lip then kissed her hard.

"Hmm," she giggled as her tongue became in engaged in other things beside speech.

"I don't care if it's boy or a girl…" Greg pulled away from kissing her mouth and trailed down her neck and further south, "As long as there are ten finger, and ten toes…" he ended his trail of warm kisses by kissing her**_ every pale pink painted toe._**

* * *

**I wanted to take a second and thank everyone who has reviewed—your reviews mean especially much as so few have taken the time, I do sincerely thank you, they are very encouraging. I hope this is story isn't as appalling bad as the lack of reviews seem to suggest, but even if it is I hope you could drop me a line and advise me where I might improve. Oh and there is only one chapter remaining**

**Thanks so much for reading, RA :-)**


	5. Chapter 5

**NOTE: this chapter is why I gave the story the M (PG-13, R) rating, it is a bit graphic but nothing that should offend if you are a House viewer…which I would suppose you'd have to be if you are reading fanfic for it…but anyway just a precaution**

**Previously…**

"I don't care if it's boy or a girl…" Greg pulled away from kissing her mouth and trailed down her neck and further south, "As long as there are ten finger, and ten toes…" he ended his trail of warm kisses by kissing her**_ every pale pink painted toe._**

* * *

"I think…I think I better get going…I've got so much work and errands…this isn't the best time…" Allison shuddered as Greg opened the bathroom door to find her sitting on the edge of the bathtub pale and wiping furiously at her eyes.

She tried to rush past him, but he caught her arm, "Allison, wait," he tried to restrain her but she pulled out of his grasp which had been superficial at best.

"Ally, please…please stop!" Greg managed to halt her with a firmer hand just as she started down the stairs.

"We're done…no more…I can't," she shook her head sucking her bottom lip refusing to look at him but not being able to muster the muscle to pull away. He would have to let her go.

"No, one more room…please Ally…one more then you can leave, just please give me one more…then we'll be done—I promise, I won't fight the divorce, just give me this." He was urgent grasping both of her arms trying with earnest to get her to understand, to give him closure.

"Don't ask this of me…don't ask me to go through this with you…" she met his eyes.

Greg had to swallow hard to keep down the moan, her eyes were so watery, only shear willpower was keeping those tears at bay he knew…the pain painted on her face was crippling him, but he had to—_they_—had to do this.

"**_I told you we were having_** a girl!" Allison laughed as they hauled in the car load of nursery things they had purchased at the home improvement store on the way back from their doctor's appointment.

"We'll you had a fifty, fifty chance," Greg huffed juggling two cans of paint, three drop cloths and step ladder.

"It was mother's intuition," she countered.

"If you say so…Why did we buy all this painting stuff again? We have a garage full of it," he dumped the load into the middle of the empty room.

"Did you really want to go and sort it out? The best idea I had of where it could possibly be in the black hole would be with the tile saw and your box of old baseball cards—which I haven't seen since we moved in by the way."

"Those aren't just old baseball cards—they are collector cards that will pay little Georgina's way through medical school!" Greg unfolded one drop cloth while Allison opened the windows to let in fresh air, "And I thought we rented that tile cutter…"

"First of all there is no way we are naming our daughter Georgina, and yes, we did rent the tile cutter but _someone_ put the thing into the Bermuda Triangle of our garage and we were being charged daily for that thing so it ended up being cheaper to buy it outright then to pay the rent."

"Oh," was Greg's only answer.

Allison popped the top of one of the paint cans, "I think this is just going to be perfect," she dipped her paintbrush in after stirring and gave a large stroke for Greg to see.

"Surprised you didn't go with Powder Puff Pink or Lovely Loveable Lavender…"

"Don't worry that's coming later," she poured the soft sage green paint into the tray, "I'm going to paint a rose garden on that wall," she pointed to the wall that also made their bedroom wall.

"I didn't know you were an artist," Greg raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not, not really anyway," she went to closet on the opposite side of the room and pulled a bit awkwardly an ancient looking projector out to the middle of the floor, "I got this from the basement of the hospital," she also retrieved an extension cord and amazed her husband as she was setting it all up. He hadn't the slightest idea what she was doing. "I made this transparency so I just put it on the projector and…ta-da!" she flipped the switched and projected a pretty garden scene onto the wall. "Now I just follow the lines, shade a little—just like a great big coloring book," she laughed.

"Well good thing you were so sure it was a girl…because I don't know how well a boy would have liked growing up with that," Greg wrapped his arms around her kissing her lightly.

"I made one of sail boats too…just in case," she smiled against his lips kissing him again **_her arms around his neck. _**

Allison faced the mural finger tips caressing the pale pink and silver purple roses tears obvious on her cheeks, she udders the question that has choked her, haunted her, "If…if Katie hadn't…hadn't died, do you think we would still be here?"

Greg was silent, it hurt to see her suffering as she was, still so raw, he still ached, still hurt, still mourned—every single day, every time he drew a breath; but it was killing him to see his wife in so much agony and know he couldn't take it away. "No, I don't," he answered lowly, voice almost broken and weary. He heard her sharp intake of breath.

"But losing Katie isn't all that has us here—we could have survived that, devastated, heartbroken and defeated but we could have survived. It was everything that happened afterwards."

She turned her eyes on him in clear loathing and unobstructed hurt.

"You pushed me away Allison. When our daughter died, our marriage fell apart because we weren't working together—as husband and wife to cope, we were standing an ocean apart. You fought me…everything I did you'd fight…everything…"

"You wanted me better! You wanted me to just get over Katie—I am sorry that I couldn't be better for you!" she cried voice shaking with rage that she was trying to hold back.

"No I didn't honey…I just wanted us to cope! I wanted to see a councilor—you wouldn't leave the nursery! I tried talking—I lost Katie too…but you refused to listen. I tried yelling and pounding at your damn emotional wall but all I got for it was silence and a broken hand.

"Hell, when we did share any conversation you would purposely pick a fight—then you just stopped talking altogether. What would you have had me do?"

"Don't you dare blame me, don't you dare! You wanted me to be okay and I wasn't, I needed to grieve. I needed to be angry! I needed you to wait, to not force me…I needed you there!" her voice was high, scratchy and waning.

"I was there dammit, I was there for everything but I was hurting too and if you weren't willing to try why should I have been willing to wait?" his chest pulled in breaths sharply, painfully.

"There? You weren't there…you weren't there when she died, you didn't have to walk into this room and see her still and not breathing! You weren't **_here!_**" she screamed at him throwing her hands out trying to make him see.

"And don't you think I agonize over that every day? Don't you think I wish I had been here? I was at work; I was trying to save someone else's life while my baby was dying at home… Don't you think that haunts me?" he strained to keep his words calm, he tried not to bellow.

"Why? Why do you wish you were here, do you think you could have saved her when I couldn't?" Allison was leaning heavily against the wall now but her legs wouldn't hold her, she slid slowly down, her eyes darted around without clear destination.

"Dammit, no I don't think that…Allison it was SIDS…you can't anticipate that…" he kneeled in front of her, it killed him having to see her like this, but it was a break…there was finally a crack in the wall. "That is really what it's about isn't it. It wasn't your fault…not your fault—not in the least," he whispered cupping her cheeks kissing her forehead "It wasn't your fault…"

"I am a…_doctor_! I should have…I should have been more careful…I…" she couldn't hold back the sob or the tears any longer, the dam broke loose. "I…killed our baby!"

"Don't! Don't you say that, you didn't! You didn't, do you hear me? It wasn't your fault, I don't blame you!" he pressed harder against her cheeks looking deeply into her eyes, "I don't blame you…" he said harshly, gruffly staring into her gaze not letting her turn away.

"I…I…thought that is why you left…" she sucked in a breath. Greg shuddered.

"**_What are you doing?" _**Allison demanded.

Greg was silent as he shoved clothes into a duffle bag. He had been staring at her packed suitcase sitting in their closet long enough; he couldn't do it any longer. He couldn't keep waiting for her to leave. He couldn't keep fighting to break through; he couldn't take watching her diminish and wither any more. He had vowed to love her through the good times and the bad…but she walked away first—she had left him emotionally so which was the greater trespass, his or hers?

"I am going to stay with James and Lisa," he said coldly as he cleaned the bathroom of his toiletries.

"Fine, don't bother coming back then," she yelled at him sitting motionlessly in the middle of their big bed which he hadn't occupied since Katie had died, hair wet from her shower.

"Don't put this on me Allison; I have done everything I can think of. You have made it perfectly clear that it doesn't matter if I'm here or not so I might as well not because I am tired of watching you self destruct!"

Allison breathed in rapidly through her nose seething. "Our daughter died four months ago! FOUR months Greg, we buried her eleven weeks ago, what do you want from me? For me to be happy, to be okay with this, I'm sorry but that's not going to happen! I am not going to just be okay!" she gritted her teeth eyes flaming.

"I'm not asking you to be, I'm just asking you to talk to me…hell quit treating me like the enemy!" he threw his bag down kicking it aside.

She didn't speak, just glared.

"You haven't let me touch since the funeral and only then because if I didn't you would have fallen in the grave…Allison I'm your husband not your enemy! You refuse to talk to me, you barely acknowledge me and heaven forbid you let me hold you or kiss you—! Allison there is a rift between us so big we could put Asia in it!"

"Sex, this is just about sex?" she shrilled jumping from the bed struggling to untie her robe "This is about sex, fine here I am," she let it drop.

He stared at her long and hard, though there was no heat in his gaze, no warmth just pity and woeful acceptance. "No, this isn't about sex…" he shook his head wondering how she could even suggest such a thing, "You don't get it," he picked up her robe handing it back to her.

"No! No, you want to touch me, you want to kiss me fine," she refused to take the robe and moved fast to door slamming it closed not allowing him to leave.

Greg stared at her blocking the handle with her body, he could easily overpower her and leave anyway but he chose not to. They had never had 'just sex', they had made love. It could have no other name because it was the physical representation of everything that couldn't be seen—the mating of their souls—of their hearts. It was love that was made when they had conceived Katie—not 'just sex'. Maybe he could reach her here…everything else had failed, so maybe reuniting physically could build the beginnings that would reunited them emotionally…But he'd be damned if it would happen like this.

"Don't fight me so hard…I'm on your side," he whispered brushing the hair back from her face. He saw the tear stains on her cheeks, the hollowness of her eyes, the circles underneath, the red rims—he could see the defeat and the hurt—along with the venomous fire.

"Don't fight me Allison…let me in…_please_," he whispered kissing her neck in a feather light trail. She shuddered, but didn't soften.

He ran his hands along her shoulders, down her arms, across her stomach and pulled her closer laying his face against the hollow of her neck breathing in deeply. She was cold, goose-bumps rose over her flesh and she shivered again—he tried to rub her back to warmth.

"I love you so much…" he tried to say reassuringly but he was too hoarse. He took her hands guiding her to the bed. He laid her down arranging the pillows so she was comfortable then quickly stripped to his boxers.

"Please…" he croaked but didn't quite know what he was asking for. He trailed his touch over her face, body holding over hers. He watched tears drip from under squeezed tight lids, he kissed them away.

"I won't do this…unless I know you want it as much as I do…" he didn't want to say it but he had to, he had to let her know. He waited for an answer. She finally nodded she understood and likewise he knew just by her body language she wasn't ready yet.

He leaned down to kiss her, as his lips were ready to meet hers she almost whimpered, he crushed her tight lips and she kissed him back. It wasn't gentle; it wasn't pretty but hot, wet and violent. She threaded her hands into his hair pulling him into her moaning into his mouth.

It wasn't right yet he knew and pulled away though it was an almost an unattainable feat for her arms hung like vines to his neck and she tugged his lips with her teeth hard enough to bring blood.

It would not be 'just sex', he told himself again and put kisses all along her jaw, again her neck and traveled down to her breasts where he kissed and suckled till they peaked. Her body was acting of its own accord—he wasn't after her body but her soul as well. He wanted her back; he wanted her again to be a part of his self. If he could just hang onto her, absorb her into his very marrow maybe he could save her…maybe he could…

"Greg…Greg…" she started as a whisper then it reached a panicky urgency as he moved slowly, a little into her.

He shook his head sweat beading all over him, "Look at me Allison…" he demanded gently. Her body pulsated under his and he knew she was ready for him that she wanted him but he had to see her eyes—that is the only way he would know—her eyes could never lie.

"Look at me!" he was harsher this time but he couldn't hold back much longer.

"Allison…" he whispered the strain allowing no more.

"I…need…you…" her eyes opened startled tears heated cascading in a stream.

He saw what he was searching for. It was fast, liquid. He thrust; she wrapped her arms around his neck. They hung onto each other like drowning men to life-lines, like the other might slip through their grasp if they didn't anchor in. They soon found a rhythm and she dug in her nails as she climaxed, he groaned low following.

Once the passion ebbed and the moment passed Allison sat up wrapping the cotton sheet around her turning her back on Greg. "I think you're right…you should go." Her voice was even, cold and cut Greg deeply—but strangely not as much as he had thought.

"Okay…" he nodded leaving their bed and dressing. She didn't look up once keeping her head down and turned away.

"Goodbye Allison," he licked his dry lips as he reached for the door.

"Goodbye," she lifted her eyes finally to him—they were dry and void.

Greg nodded accepting this—he left but as he closed the bedroom door he swore, he heard her mutter "I always knew you would be the first to leave…" It was a sucker punched right to the gut but he couldn't stay—he had endured the emotional separation but he knew he couldn't endure it if he had to watch her walk out the door as well.

"No…no my love, it was you—you left me, I could never do to you what you've done to me…but I just**_ couldn't let you be the first to leave," he thought bitterly._**

"You never came back…you never called…" Allison pushed Greg away struggling to stand.

"You filed for separation a week after I left! I thought your feelings were pretty clear! I spoke with your attorney after that, it was Mr. Spencer Massey Esq. that informed me my wife wanted to sell our home yet wasn't ready to file for divorce…or meet with me or talk with me…I wonder why I didn't come back!" Greg quipped sardonically as any compassion or softening vaporized in the scathing memory of her goodbye.

She pulled in her lip biting it trying to hold back her tears and her anger, "I was angry! I was angry at you because I thought you blamed me…I blamed me! I was angry at the world…at God for taking her…I was angry and then you left—you just left!" she had to stop, she held the back of her hand to mouth to keep the swelling cry from erupting.

"No, no, you don't get to say that. You left _me_! I was living with a ghost, don't try and tell me I left you…" he shook his head flexing his jaw in pent up fury. "Why do you keep dragging this out? If you still are so incensed with me, so livid, so abhorred why you don't just file for divorce, and be done? Quit toying with me, I think I've suffered enough with the death of my daughter and losing you that to be teased like a rat in a trap is intolerable!" he finally yelled no longer able to hold it back.

"You want to know why I couldn't call you, couldn't talk to you after you left…why I can't just divorce you?" she shook, hands working the buttons of her coat till it opened widely.

Greg almost hit his knees, the wind knocked from his lungs, "You're…you're pregnant," he stuttered looked at her slightly rounded stomach.

"I am…tell me how was I to explain this? Pregnant…It hasn't been a year and I am pregnant…" her voice trailed at the end.

"If…if I had known …You could have told me and I would have…" he rambled, his eyes unmoving from her stomach.

"I know…but I couldn't because I knew you would…" she paused blinking, "And I wanted to, I wanted you to come home. But I was so angry at you and I was punishing you…I didn't mean to, I swear to you I didn't mean to punish you…but I didn't know how…"

"We would have figured it out! Four months! Allison I've been gone for four months, you must have known yet you've said nothing!" he was trying not to be angry. "I could have helped…."

"I know! Greg I know! But don't you see, nothing would have been solved, not really! You would have come back and you would have taken my crap, you wouldn't have said a word, you would have never complained and then once the baby came we would be right here, fighting, miserable and on the opposite sides of the great divide because I wouldn't have forgiven you and you would resent me…No, there would be no saving our marriage if I didn't figure out how to deal with losing Katie on my own…if I didn't figure out how to get over my guilt of being pregnant not a year after losing Katie…"

Greg swallowed closing his eyes briefly, "Have you figured out how to do all that?"

"Not completely but I'm better—or at least I want to get better; I want to learn to live again, because after Katie I truly couldn't see reason to. I was blind… I know, I had you," she blinked back tears, "but at the time it just didn't seem to be enough, but once you were gone I realized it was—then came this little one," she put her hand on her stomach, "and I didn't know what to do…it felt like I was replacing Katie…that I was forgetting her. Then I was afraid that I couldn't be a mother—that this baby would die too…"

"Greg, I need you, I need you to fight me, don't let me fall…I need you to love me…I need you… I can't do this alone. I want to be okay, I want to raise our baby together—I want to remember Katie with you…I want to save this marriage! I don't know how this got so out of control…Please…please tell me it's not too late…please I can change, I am trying to, I am trying…please…Not too late…" she was crying uncontrollably and shaking.

"Oh honey…it's never too late…" he wrapped her into his arms, "I love you, we'll do this together…I promise," he kissed her hair over and over.

"I am so sorry…so sorry…" she sobbed into his chest.

"It's okay…I'm sorry too," he finally breathed easy as he at last felt whole again with her in his arms…how had they let it get this far…?

--------------------------

"It is going to be so strange seeing someone else living here…" Allison mused, hanging onto Greg's hand as they left the house by way of the back door.

"Yeah, a lot of life happened here…Jimmy and Cuddy getting married," he nodded toward the gazebo that had hosted the nuptials a year and a half previous.

"The 'welcome home baby' shower they threw us when we brought Katie home…" Allison's voice caught as she thought of all the pink balloons tied in the trees, the backyard full of people, the barbeque, and the presents piled high…the sign that had stretched across the fence side to side.

"We lived a lifetime in just a few years…this house endured everything—happy and sad. A birth, a wedding…a funeral," Greg drew a deep breath.

Allison was mute standing there looking at it, remembering it all. It should have seen more—it should have seen first days of school, back yard science experiments, the first time riding a bike—and driving a car—it should have seen graduations, high school and college. This house should have had all those things, she thinks now with regret, this House hadn't finished telling the story...

Greg tugged her hand bringing her out of her thoughts back to what was real and what was real was that they were leaving, that this was no longer their house. They left through the side gate coming up the walkway between the house and the garage. They came upon Janey just as she was flipping her cell phone closed with a sharp snap.

"That was Percy Chambers—the Parkers agent," Janey's twenty-four years of age was showing as she snapped her gum, a habit Allison had learned she had when nervous, "their money fell through! I don't know what happened! But don't worry; I'll get another buyer…"

Allison and Greg exchanged a look. Allison raised her eyebrows in question, Greg lifted a one corner smile in answer, they both looked at Janey "Take it off the market, we're not selling—we've changed our minds."

Janey's mouth dropped and her expression was like they had just kicked her puppy.

"But don't worry we'll recommend you to all our friends," Allison patted the younger woman's' arm.

_Love had woken up Greg, love rescued Allison when life crashed. Love built a marriage—and saved a marriage. Love made a home in what had only been a shell of a House._

_**Shakespeare's sonnet 116**  
Let me not to the marriage of true minds  
Admit impediments. Love is not love  
Which alters when it alteration finds,  
Or bends with the remover to remove:  
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark  
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;  
It is the star to every wandering bark,  
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.  
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks  
Within his bending sickle's compass come:  
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,  
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.  
If this be error and upon me proved,  
I never writ, nor no man ever loved._

**THE END**

* * *

**Wow, I can only say thank you so much to the reviewers, you are so awesome!! I hope this story has the happy ended you all were craving though it still was tinged with unhappiness. Thank you, thank you so much for taking the time to read and thank you so much for reviewing it does encourage so much.  
Again with much thanks,  
RaeAnne**


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